


Breathe

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Howling Commandos - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Old-Fashioned, Polari, Protective Steve, Separation Anxiety, Sleepy Cuddles, Smoking, Steve Feels, Sweet, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Officially read through! Let me know if I missed something.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Officially read through! Let me know if I missed something.

The howling commandos knew, maybe not all of them, but still.

Bucky may not be the most observant fellow out there, but after a few subtle hints... And, well, some not so subtle hints... Hell, once, Moritia slipped a word or two of polari to him, and, bless his heart, Steve. Steve may be the more adventurous of the two, but Bucky had the advantage of a good set of lungs growin' up - and a healthy heart to match - and he wasn't as straight laced as people thought he was.

Bucky knew that wasn't all coincidence, but they were so closely knit, the whole team of them, that they overlooked it. Not accepted - that was impossible - but overlooked. Bucky didn't know why. Maybe they saw how their good outweighed their bad, maybe they were just really, really good friends. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. Bucky doubted it, he's read the papers, he's heard the whispers. He doesn't know why, but their secret is being kept. At least, for now, they're safe.

And Bucky felt his life owed to them for the grace.

Also, he felt it was the most cruel form of blackmail, something they could hold above their heads if they ever got in a bind. Sure, none of them were saints, either, but for this level of... Criminal activity, it doesn't balance out.

He'd been back with the team for a couple days now, and Steve still looked at him like he was made of porcelain. It didn't bother Bucky so much as it unnerved him. He'd not been as strong as normal, but he still worked with Steve seamlessly, like clockwork, and his aim was still spot on, so why is he scared? Why does he look at him like that? Did something happen? Is there something he's missing? Or does Steve just truly worry about him that much?

Steve had already picked a fight with Bucky once, about three week ago when he'd visited him in the recovery room. Bucky hadn't been feeling his best, but he wasn't going to let Steve keep him on the bench any longer.

"I don't think you should come with us tomorrow," Steve admitted softly as Bucky laced up his combat boots.

"I ain't stayin' behind, Steve. It's you and me - remember?" He was determined to get this point across, two months in the hospital was too long, especially with Steve leaving him every couple days. It had fried his nerves to be without him so often.

"Buck... I don't know if you're recovered enough to fight."

"I'll be fine." Bucky insists, "I'll stay on your left, behind the shield, where you'll always know where I am."

"What if something happens to you?" Steve insists.

"What if something happens to you?" Bucky pushed himself up on his elbows, hiding the wince from the spark of lingering pain, "What if something happens 'n I'm not there. You think I'm okay sittin' here all alone worrying about you? Because I'm not."

"I'm not frail anymore, Bucky. I'm not weak, I can handle-"

"You've never been weak, damn it." Bucky almost shouts, "Never to me." He said, lowering his voice. "You can't make me stay anymore. I'm going with you. I'd rather lose this damn arm, and stay with you, than sit here alone for one more day, and wonder if I'll ever see you again."

"Your arm is fine, it'll heal-"

"Then I see no reason why I can't stay with you. Please. If you don't want me anymore, just say it, but stop pushing me away like this."

"I'm not trying to push you away. What's gotten into you?"

"Me? What is this, Steve? What? You left me scared, and broken, without a single damn word from you for two weeks. Now you come back and say you still don't want me with you, and you ask what's wrong with me. Why would you do that?"

"Because," Steve said, softly, "Look, when you got hurt, I realized I wasn't strong enough to lose you, and I was scared, okay? I knew you'd want to come with us, and I wasn't ready to risk it."

"Why don't you stay here, and let me go fight?" Bucky offered. "How would you like to sit here and strain to hear if the latest talk about Captain America is bad news. You could 'a been dead for all I knew."

"What? No." Steve cupped Bucky's face, "I'm here. I'm fine."

"So you understand why I can't stay here anymore." Bucky snapped, batting Steve's hands away from him. He never liked to push Steve away, but he was angry. Steve had hurt him.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, "You'll stay beside me?"

"I promise." Bucky said, "I'll be there. Always. 'Till the end of the line, Stevie."

Steve cupped a hand around Bucky's neck, letting out a sigh of relief when he wasn't pushed away, weak, and exhausted, and simply needing to be close to him. "Just promise me there'll be no end."

Bucky smiled, a bit sadly, and kissed him so he wouldn't have to answer.

He thought they'd resolved it then, but maybe not. Bucky couldn't make sense of any of this, but as he cheated death over, and over, he guessed he understood Steve's anxiety, and he became less suspicious of his friends, less worried about the team's opinion of his, well, partial homosexuality, and more grateful.

Grateful for the moments he had with Steve, because they could be taken from him in an instant.

Grateful, knowing that he would probably die in this war, but die beside the man he loved.

Grateful that he was, at least for a little while, allowed to love Steve in this way.

Grateful for the panic attacks, and nightmares instead of imprisonment, and Lord only knows what else they do to homosexuals.

It was a strange list of blessings, but he counted them blessings all the same.

Tucked around the fire, just trying to stay warm, Bucky reclined against Steve's chest. His shirt was open, and tugged off his shoulder, where Steve was sitting, rubbing lotion into the chapped skin. Steve carried conversation with the other soldiers like this was a completely normal thing to do, touching him in this way, and for them, it was. Steve seemed to be completely unable to keep his hands to himself recently, and while their touches never even borderline sexual, they weren't strictly friendly, either.

Bucky may be paranoid, but not without reason.

They didn't push things, didn't kiss in front of them or anything, and Bucky still chipped in his two cents when the boys were talking about dames, but Bucky knew it wasn't much of a secret anymore, as hard as that may be for him to think about.

After nightfall, Bucky still sat near the dying embers, smoking a cigarette, breathing puffs of smoke into the chilly night air. The tents were set up a good distance to the north, where the rest of their team had already retired, so the fire wouldn't give their location away.

Steve stole the cigarette from his fingers, and tried a hesitant breath. Bucky only chuckled, and leaned against his side, "Not so incorruptible, after all. Eh, Stevie?"

Not surprisingly, none of the others were comfortable being alone with him, even for the duration of a cigarette, so again, it's just him and Steve, while Bucky nurses this ill habit, stealing his cigarette back, and tucking it between his own lips.

"Because I've always been the incorruptible one." Steve rolled his eyes.

Bucky felt his lips twitch, "I was a good kid, but I was far from perfect." Smoke filtered through his teeth on a stuttering exhale.

"Mmm," was Steve's only response, slipping an arm around Bucky.

Germany was cold. Damn cold, and Steve was a constant source of heat at his side. Bucky imagines, if the other fellas didn't think of him as a fruit, they'd be taking advantage of his warmth as well. Better than dyin' of frostbite.

After walking around all day, the sting of the wind and snow like blades on his skin, Bucky didn't feel he could be blamed for taking advantage of the heat. He was thankful for it - for the moment of shelter in the thick forest that allowed this moment, for the warmth of the fire. For Steve, his own personal furnace, tucked behind his shoulder, the dab of lotion on his thumb swiped across the back of Bucky's neck, where the weight of his uniform had rubbed the skin raw, and for a moment, he feels spoiled.

"You don't have t' do that," Bucky says, "It'll heal."

"I want to." Steve whispered. "It's no trouble."

The fingers on his neck rub in calming circles. Working at the tension there.

"Are you okay?"

"Happy and gay." Bucky sighed, but it was dry, and bitter, and he was anything but carefree.

"Stressed?"

"Nah. Chipper as a jaybird."

"Mmm... Sleepy?"

"Hell no," Bucky whispered, "Ready for a night of dancing."

That, well, the first part, at least, sounded close to truthful.

"Nightmares?"

"Only when I'm asleep." He took a drag of his cigarette, "It's so hard."

"Maybe I'm not holding you tight enough." Steve offered. He wished he could just take the nightmares away. He knows they come almost every night, and even Steve had trouble helping him.

"I wish it were that simple." Bucky breathed, "If you're sleepy, I'll manage. I know how... Healing. Takes it out of you."

Steve kissed his ear, "I know it's hard to understand." He felt Bucky's shrug. His wince.

Bucky sighed, almost reluctantly moving a hand to rub himself through his pants.

"What are you doing? We can't-"

"I ain't doing it for your benefit." Bucky murmured, "Don't flatter yourself. I need to sleep, tired or not. It's too dangerous for me to walk around drowsy tomorrow."

Steve sighed, tucked his face in Bucky's neck. "I wish I could take this stress on myself," he whispered, "I wish you didn't have to suffer like this."

"I'm a lucky one, Stevie. I was very fortunate. We have to remember that."

"I know," his hand gripped a handful of Bucky's jacket, and Bucky touched his cheek briefly. It was true. He'd heard stories, everyone that had been taken to the isolation ward had disappeared, finding Bucky when he had was no less than a miracle, but Bucky hadn't been the same.

"Things will get better." Bucky tried to comfort him. "So long as we're together, right?"

"Right." Steve says, but it lacks passion.

"As long as I got you, I've got the whole world." Bucky whispered.

Steve kissed his temple, and Bucky rests his head against his shoulder. Together, they stare into the fire, Bucky still finishing his cigarette, though it was mostly just burning to ashes in his fingertips as he lazily jerked himself off. Steve had to be more purposeful in his ignoring that. Not for his benefit, he repeats in his mind. Yeah, he wanted Bucky, but without his consent, Steve wouldn't dare take this moment and make it something it wasn't. Being close to him was enough.

Steve let his mind drift. He was exhausted. Against Bucky's will, Steve had been overcompensating for him. He'd come a long way, but as he fought, especially firing that rifle, his arm had taken the toll, and Steve wished he would've given it longer to heal. He'd rather miss Bucky than lose him to stubbornness, but that was karma for him, he supposed. Their roles were reversed not long ago at all, and Steve had little room to argue his point with him.

With a hitch in his breathing, Bucky caught his attention, only to lean back into his side, letting a few aftershocks pulse through his trembling body. With a vague sense of regret, Steve wished he could've been the one to give him that pleasure, but chased the thought away just as quickly. Next time.

When Bucky had come down, Steve helped him to his feet, and together, they doused the fire, and trudged north to camp.

In a moment's pause, Bucky leans back to stare into the sky. Through the cover of the trees, he can see the stars, and a little to the left, he can see Steve's eyes, always on him, his gaze unwavering. Bucky lets himself walk a little closer after that, let his hand gravitate towards Steve's. They can't hold hands, but if they time their steps right, he can press the back of his hand against the back of Steve's and feel his touch. If they were caught, their hands could swing apart as though the touch were accidental, but as long as they're alone, they know the truth, and it's their own secret.

Steve climbed straight into their tent, but Bucky stayed out a moment. Washing up, and offering a cigarette to Happy and Gabe, who had just gotten settled in the cold for first watch, before retiring himself.

In four hours, Steve would take Bucky's watch with Dugan so he could sleep. He tells himself it's not because this is Bucky. He knows he'd do the same for any of the other fellas on his team, but it's different with Bucky, and he knows it.

For now, he lets it drift from him mind, letting exhaustion give way to sleep as Bucky settled against his back, with the ever romantic, "God, you smell bad."

Steve only laughed, "Go to sleep, Bucky."

Bucky made a noise against his neck, shifting to climb on his chest. "I got an idea, Stevie."

"Tell me." Steve smiled, letting his hands cup Bucky's hips gently.

"When this war is over," Bucky starts, holding Steve's face, thumbs rubbing back and forth across his cheekbones, "We'll go back to Brooklyn, spend a night in my bed." He smirked, still a bit loopy with quiet, postcoital pleasure, "Then we'll pack up, and I'll take ya' down south. We'll live on a farm, just you and me."

"But you love the city."

"Oh, Stevie." Bucky ruffled his hair. "I love you more. Besides, if we're out away from everyone, we won't have to hide so much anymore."

"You'd do that?"

"Only if you'll come with me."

Steve smiled, and Bucky moves his hands to bunch in his shirt, pressing teasing kisses to his jaw, and lips, "We'll have a nice back yard, and the sun'll shine, and you'll see the stars at night, and we'll have a nice little ford with white wall tires, and we can-"

Steve laughed, "You know we can't afford all that."

"But you can only live as large as you dare to dream, Stevie." He lowered his face, and kissed Steve's nose, "I want to take you dancing," He smiled, fitting his body along the length of Steve's, "and when they play our song, I'll kiss you on the dance floor, right out in the open."

Steve rolled onto his side, "And we'll get married?"

Bucky grinned, "Now you're talkin'." He grinned, and stretched out with a yawn, snuggling down once more, kissing Steve's clothed shoulder sweetly. "We'll be married at the docks at sunset. You look so beautiful in the sunlight... We'll wait until the summer when it's warm, and the fireflies are out."

"I can hardly wait."

"We'll spend the rest of our lives together," Bucky whispered, "and we'll be so happy."

"It's a nice thought." Steve whispered, only daring to wish it could become reality. It was easy to settle in with the thought of warm summer kisses in his mind, and with Bucky against his chest, he could almost imagine perfectly how that dance would feel, and hoped desperately the thought would continue to carry him into his dream.

Steve fell asleep that night listening to the even sounds of Bucky's breathing, and for four lovely hours, he dreamt of sunshine, and Bucky, and warm kisses on his skin before he awoke to knee deep snow, and was once again forced to taste the bitter chill of their endless winter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! The comments and kudos have really kept me motivated! :D


End file.
